Violated: The Most Disturbing Love Story
by toledo girl
Summary: AU. Violet hates California. No weather and fake people. One boy though, shares her morbid, dark outlook. How dark is too dark though? Sometimes those you love can get away with just about anything. Violate.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Violet

1994

Tate walked through the busy halls of the high school. His head remained down, watching the floor with strands of blonde hair hanging before his eyes. No one really noticed him, with his dark red sweater, jeans full of holes, tennis shoes. Nothing looked too out of the ordinary with the Kurt Cobain look a like.

He went to class on the days that he was bored, or had nothing better to do. This was one of those days. He never really paid attention in class though. He would sneak in other books to read of draw in his notebook. To him, this all meant nothing. If he didn't graduate, then he didn't graduate, no big deal. It wasn't like there was anyone who really cared what he did anyways. Well, there was one person, but as far as he was concerned, she didn't matter.

Another reason to go to school though, was simply to get away. That house, he couldn't stay there too long without getting upset, without thinking about what had happened there. He knew that Larry had killed his brother up there in the attic. It was no secret. Larry and Constance acted like it was, her with her bullshit story of how sick he was and how he must have died of natural causes. Tate knew that Beau wasn't all that well, but he had also heard Larry go up there and talk to him. He knew that they were wanting to take him away from Constance. He also knew that if you died in the house, you stayed there forever. It didn't take a genius to put all the clues together.

Back home, the person that he really did care about was Nora. She was the one that helped him around the house when he was little. She taught him how to get rid of the ghosts that were scaring him, and how to talk to everyone there. The only thing that she didn't teach him, was the fact that no matter what you do there, the house still has something over you, an evil influence that pulls you into insanity and grips onto you, constricting you like a snake with it's prey, waiting for the right moment to devour you. No one could teach that though, that was something that people had to find out on their own, and most of the time, you had to learn the hard way.

The bell rang and the hall was cleared out. He was late, but it didn't matter. The teachers should just be happy that he was there today. He turned and went into the classroom.

The teacher at the front of the room, Mrs. Hartley, looked over and smiled to Tate. "Nice of you to finally join us Mr. Langdon," she mentioned. She was very aware of his attendance record, and actually, sincerely meant what she had said. She was a younger teacher, early thirties. This was her first year teaching here, and already, she had heard stories about the kids. The stories of the ones that stood out from the rest, the trouble makers, the class skippers, the smart kids, the best of the best, the most athletic. Really, to her, it was just like being a student all over again. The teachers were all just as bad about talking as the kids were.

Tate nodded and took his seat in the back of the room. Without even hearing what was going to be talked about today, he opened his notebook to a blank page and started drawing. The random scribbles on the page were starting to become the outline of a bird flying away. That was something he wished he could do a lot of the time, just fly away. In the background, he started to draw buildings on fire, preppy girls with drug dealers and pimps, dead bodies, rats running the streets. The filth and suffering that he had encountered every day whether it be in real life or on the news.

"Where'd you learn to draw like that?"

Tate looked up, over to the girl sitting next to him. She looked a little young to be in his class, most likely because of her soft, angelic face. That wasn't the only thing he caught about her though, he also noticed her long hair sandy blonde hair, those dark brown eyes revealing a sort of morbidness to her. "I don't know. Just can I guess," he casually responded.

The young girl sat there, studying the picture. There was a rawness to it that she appreciated. "Most people are afraid to draw stuff like that," she mentioned.

Tate looked glanced down at his picture. This was true. To most adults, this was the sign of a mentally disturbed child, the sign that they needed help. That bothered him, anything that people did out of the ordinary was considered a problem, and it really shouldn't be that way.

"Reality instead of the fake, bullshit pictures showing this perfect, little, made up world," she stated. Her eyes were glued to the picture, fascinated with it's honesty. In a way, she was glad that someone else shared her view of the world.

"I know. I can't stand being lied to by people telling me that everything is okay when it's clearly not," he replied, looking back up to her. A slight smile was beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth. This was the first person that he had met at school that actually seemed to get what he felt. She wasn't into all the popularity and all the he said, she said bullshit, she was real. She saw the world through his same melancholic view and took it for what it was instead of trying to cover it up.

"I see you've met out new student," Mrs. Hartley announced, standing before the desks.

Tate looked up to her, the smile disappearing. "Yes," he answered, figuring that that would be enough to get her to leave the two alone.

Mrs. Hartley smiled. "I don't mind if you make friends with her Tate, but please at least wait until I get done explaining the project before you start talking to her," she requested.

Tate nodded and went back to his drawing. He could hear her continue to talk, but ignored it as he went on to put in the details. While he was scribbling in some of the harsh shading, a note was dropped down on his desk beside his notebook. His eyes immediately focused on it, knowing exactly who had given it to him. He set his pen down and gingerly picked up the paper and unfolded it. _You forgot to ask, name's Violet. _He looked up to her, momentarily watching as she jotted down a few notes. The small piece of ripped paper was still in his hands, currently being refolded. He slipped the paper into his pocket.

The rest of the class, he sat there quietly, finishing up his picture, making sure that it was perfect. Then, within the last few minutes, he tore the picture out, folded it up, and tossed it onto Violet's desk. Smirking, she glanced over to him and then went on to unfold and examine the picture. On the top, right above the bird, _TAinTEd, _was written, and then his name, Tate Langdon, signed on the bottom. She could feel his eyes still watching her as she accepted the picture and slipped it into her folder to keep it safe.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Home Life

The ocean was the one thing that gave him hope. It put into perspective, just how insignificant this part of his life really was. No was ever remembered down the road by how they did in high school. No one was honored by millions for a good report card. There was a whole big world out there, full of opportunities, and they had the nerve to stick kids in a building and keep them locked up for seven hours a day feeding them the bullshit of their agendas.

Tate sat there on the beach, inches away from where the water started. If he got wet, it didn't matter. As he watched the sun begin to go down along the edge of the water, he thought back to when he was younger. When he had no idea how bad things were.

Five years old, he would be running around the house, seeing the people that he knew weren't supposed to be there. The only one that really talked to him at first was Nora. She taught him how to get around the house without getting scared and how to protect himself there. He would see his mother, drunk, passed out in various rooms with the bills scattered around, the bills that she knew that she couldn't pay. Other times, when she was conscious, she would be dragging men in there, having them spend the night and telling him and Addy to leave them alone. Addy would be off playing with people that she shouldn't be, mocking the two boys that scoffed at her when she warned them about going into the house. He would hear Beau upstairs, the chain constantly running across the floor, his moaning and crying.

Even then, he should have noticed something, but when you grow up with it and become used to it, it starts to feel normal. You accept it. That was what he wanted to avoid with everything that was wrong with high school, or even this entire city. People rearranging their lives around what's popular and torturing the lives of those who disagree. He did not want to accept that. He did not want to sit there and mindlessly watch it go on everyday and go home, lying to himself that it's okay, that there's nothing wrong. He did not want to become the next brainwashed, useless member to society.

As soon as the orange sky faded to dark blue, he stood up and took one more longing gaze out into the ocean. It was time to go back to that building that the other people living there chose to call a home. The only person there that he truly considered family anymore was Addy. She was his older sister, even though most thought of her as his little sister. Most people shrugged her off, disregarded what she would say, but he thought that she could actually be pretty smart. She knew what was going on more than their floozy of a mother did.

As soon as he got home, he rushed up the stairs to his room and waited to be called down to dinner. There was no reason to go down there and sit with them for longer than he had to. He also had something else that he had to work on. He took the piece of folded up paper out of his pocket and studied it, the second time today that he genuinely smiled. Carefully he set the paper down on his desk and pulled out his notebook and instantly started on another picture, the picture that he was going to make for the only girl he gave a fuck about in that building, the only one smart enough to see through all the lies and stories. She was the only reason that he would be going back there tomorrow.

ooo

Violet Harmon. She was actually a sophomore while Tate was a senior. The only reason that she was in his english class was because of the grades that she made before she moved out here. All the classes that she had been placed in out here were with the older kids. She was good at school though because it kept her separated from all the losers that were too afraid to be different from everyone else. It kept her from being swept up in the popular kids trying their hardest to see who could kiss who's ass the best.

She liked to read a lot too. That probably contributed to her ability to study. That, and the fact that most people pissed her off to the point where she hated going to any dumb social event.

Right now, she sat up in her new room. It was a small little room, too bright for her though. The walls were still white, nothing on them yet. The dark purple curtains were the first thing to be put up. She had the mattress cover on her bed, but the sheets and pillows and such were still scattered around, even though she had used them last night she didn't feel that it was too important to make up her bed just yet. There were still piles of boxes surrounding her.

The paper before her, the picture that Tate had given her, was just waiting for a spot on her wall. It was going to be the first thing to go up. Even though there was no paint yet, she needed something on there, just to make her feel more at home rather than some hotel room.

"How did your first day go?" Vivien asked, standing in the doorway. Her arms were crossed as she awaited an answer.

Violet looked up to her and shrugged. "Okay I guess."

Vivien spotted the picture laying there and stepped closer to the bed. "That's interesting," she commented. Living with Violet, she had gotten used to the morbid things. "Someone make that for you?" she questioned, noting the interest that Violet had with the picture.

"This kid in first period was bored," she explained, hoping that her mother didn't notice the fact that it was the name of a boy that was signed on the bottom.

Vivien nodded, scanning over the picture. "I see." She then looked to Violet and softly smiled. "I'm glad you found someone with similar tastes."

Violet softly laughed. "There had to be someone with some common sense here," she remarked. Really, it was more than just common sense she liked about him.

Vivien sighed. "Well, dinner's going to be done in a few minutes," she announced.

"All right," Violet sighed. The last thing that she wanted to do was go and pretend to be a family while they ate dinner. The fact that they ripped her away from her home and picked up to move out here was enough, but now they wanted to jump right into the whole happy family play. She wasn't that dumb, she knew that there was still a lot of tension between the two, and quite honestly, she couldn't blame her mom if she was still mad at him. She had caught him cheating on her, right in the act, in their own bedroom. He was a total shit head to her. Why they were still together, she had no idea.

Once Vivien had turned and walked out the door, Violet grabbed the picture and stood up, carefully looking around the room for the perfect spot. The wall right beside her bed. She walked over and reached down to the tape that was slightly sticking up from the top of the box that it was currently holding closed, and pulled it up. It was perfect, it was sticky, but so much that it would rip the delicate paper when she had to take it down to paint.

ooo

Tate sat at the table. The dinner that Constance had carried out and placed before them, he was sure he saw in boxes in the freezer yesterday, breaded chicken with potato scallops. So far, her least convincing home cooked meal.

"Now, Tate, I want you to tell us how school went today. I believe that this is the first time we have even seen your face today," Constance stated, taking her place at the end of the table.

Tate looked over to Larry who was scooping out potatoes onto his plate and then down to his own empty plate. "I learned something new today," he informed them, narrowing his eyes up to Constance. He could see her bracing herself. Hoping for the made up scenario of the perfect family dinner in her head was going to become true, but also waiting for the cut. "You ever hear the word gold digger?" he asked.

Constance looked to him, the smile she had forced, trying to convey her interest, pretending to be expecting the best had quickly faded from her face. "We will not have that sort of talk at the table," she warned him.

Larry looked over and decided that it was time to change the subject. Night after night, he had seen that same exact scene before him, and night after night, Constance still insisted that Tate come down and join them. He was her perfect son, and she was trying desperately to mold him into the person that she wanted. "How about you Addy? How was your day?" he implored, pretending that there was nothing currently going on between Tate and Constance.

"It was okay," Addy answered, then quickly looked to Tate. "I saw the tow boys again, and I told them that they should have listened to me," she explained and then smiled, proud of herself.

Tate returned the smile. "You know, if they ever start bothering you, come get me. I'll teach you how to get rid of them," he offered. He then looked over to Constance, who just finished getting her food. "I can get rid of our real father and the maid you shot too, but I think they're slightly more appealing than you are. At least they don't sit up here and pretend to be something they're not," he stabbed at her. There were times where he was sore at his father for what had happened, but the older he got, the more he realized that Constance brought it on herself. It was her fault.

Before Constance could react, Tate stood up and left the table. The anger was building up inside of him, the rage that he felt when ever he stayed there too long. It seemed that the only thing he could do there without getting mad was sleep, and even then, he didn't sleep all that much. He ran up the stairs to his room and slammed the door behind him. No more, he wasn't even going to try to please anyone with acting like he might go along with this charade anymore.

He sat down at his desk and turned the radio up in attempt to drown out the world. Nirvana's You Know You're Right, blasting in his ear as he went to finish the picture that he had started earlier. Within a few minutes, he was able to start to calm himself down.

"You know, you really should try to control yourself. This isn't good for your health," Moira stated, standing behind him.

Tate turned the music down a little and then turned around. "Hard to believe you're not mad at the cocksucker," he commented. "Then again, I guess when you have a special talent," he added.

"I am sore at your mother, I just don't see why her actions should ruin your life," she flatly informed him before taking a seat on the edge of his bed. She could see something in him, something that gave him a true chance at life, potential that the other's in his family lacked. He just had to use it right. "From what Nora says, you have a lot better of a chance out there than your mother does," she added.

"That's not much considering that all she does is use men," Tate sneered, wondering how much of an idiot Larry had to be to still be there.

Moira shrugged. "She can aim a gun," she mentioned.

Tate looked up and glance at her eye. "Right," Tate responded, turning back to his picture. Within seconds, he was alone again. Alone with his thoughts, the way that he typically liked it.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Different

Violet hugged her books to her chest as she walked down the hallway at school. It was a dreary morning, one of the first that she had seen here in California, and was actually pretty thankful for it. There was nothing wrong with a sunny day, but too many of them in a row grew vexatious, it was repetitive.

Keeping her head up, she looked through the crowd of people, searching, trying to seek out one individual. Tate. She was close to the doorway to her first period class, and was starting to wonder if today he chose to not come to school. Maybe he found something better to do. Taking one last look through the hall, she stopped before the door and leaned back against the wall. Most of the student population hadn't even looked at her, let alone noticed her or even knew who she was. Tate was the first person to actually talk to her about something other than where she came from and why Las Angeles was a good place to live.

The hall was starting to clear out and she could hear the hurried footsteps of the people rushing to their destinations. The bell was about to ring. The young girl took one last look and then headed into the room. To her surprise though, she saw him. Right in the same spot that he had sat yesterday. With a slight smirk, she headed to the back of the room and took the seat next to him.

Tate followed her with his eyes. As soon as she got to her seat, he opened his folder and pulled out the drawing that he had done for her last night. "I know that you don't like normal, so I tried to stay as far away from it as possible," he explained as he handed her the picture.

Violet took it and examined the drawing. In the center was a huge, wilted violet with spider webs hanging off of it. On the petals, sat black spiders, using webs on their legs to control human puppets down on the ground. There was blood dripping from the the legs of the spiders and down the web strings onto the puppets. There were crows circling the flower. "Cool," she approved of the picture. She then smiled up to him. "Thanks. I needed something to cover up those hideous white walls back home," she stated.

Tate softly laughed, flashing his smile, full of innocence. The first person that he had met that could appreciate his art, the meaning behind it. He liked that.

"You think I could come over sometime and see any other drawings that you have?" Violet requested.

Tate looked up to her a minute, his smile gradually fading. His house was no place for anybody, especially people that he liked. There was no way that he wanted to subject her to what was behind those walls. Besides that, his so called family was residing there. The last thing he wanted was for her to meet his mother and then have to answer a bunch of questions later on. There was just no way that it would work out. "I don't know," he answered.

Violet caught onto the fact that he had been uncomfortable with the question. "You don't like your family either?" she implored, taking a guess at what could be wrong. That was the main reason that she was hesitant to have people over at her place. Back in Boston, she knew that her parents would be fighting sometime through out the day, and having someone over to witness that just didn't appeal to her. She wasn't ashamed of her parents, she just hated having people pry into her personal life, and allowing them the chance to view something like that, often gave people the impression that they were entitled to know more.

"If you could even call them that," Tate replied, an undertone of bitterness showing through.

Violet watched him, knowing the feeling that he was talking about. She herself was close to her mom, but she watched her parents live a lie for the past year. They were making themselves miserable and dragging her down with them. "The worst part of it is not begin able to do anything about it. You tell them something sensible that would actually help, and they ignore you because you're too young or something like that," she stated, letting him know that she understood.

"You can tell them what is right in front of them and then somehow you're the one that's wrong while they go on living some stupid charade," Tate added.

"Right? You get treated as if you're not apart of the family," she agreed.

"Pretending that what they do doesn't affect you," Tate said.

A silence fell between the two as the teacher stepped into the room. "Good morning class," Mrs. Hartley greeted, her heels clicking against the floor as she rushed over to her desk. "Sorry I'm late," she said getting to desk. "Although, something tells me that you really didn't mind the wait," she stated, smiling to the class.

Violet turned in her seat and faced forward again, thinking about what they had just talked about. There was something between them, and she liked it. He understood more about her than she had originally thought.

ooo

Tate walked through the halls at the end of the day. All he was concerned with right now was just getting out of there. As he reached the door though, he heard yelling. Usually, he would ignore it, but the voice sounded familiar. He turned his head and saw Violet being shoved up against a locker by a girl named Stephanie Wells, a tall, somewhat slender blonde. Next to Stephanie stood Taylor Harris, a shorter brunette, unnaturally thin. Most likely anorexic. As he started towards the three, a small group started to form around them.

He could see Violet spit in Stephanie's face and then shove her down to the ground.

"You little bitch!" Stephanie screeched as she propped herself up on her elbows.

"What? You're already on your back the rest of the time," Violet remarked. She slightly smirked as she stood over her, folding her arms across her chest.

Stephanie took foot and kicked Violet's leg, causing her to fall to the ground. Quickly, she rolled over and grabbed Violet's shoulders and pinned her down to the ground as she repositioned herself up on top of her. Violet was able to push her off and stand up. As soon as she was up off the ground, she hurried off, smiling back at Stephanie as she left.

"You're gonna pay for this!" Stephanie yelled out, causing Violet to slightly laugh.

"Good job on holding your own there," Tate mentioned as she walked past him. His eyes following her with a subtle smile of admiration. Not too many people would stand up to that girl. There was something new that he saw her, a fearlessness that he quite enjoyed, a strength that he craved.

Violet looked back to him, but didn't stop walking. "Thanks," she called back to him and then continued on her way. She did want to talk to him, but right now, she felt that she needed to get out of the building before anyone said anything to her.

Tate followed her out and caught up to her. Instead of saying anything though, he just allowed the current silence to remain between them for a moment.

The two made it a block away from the school. Violet stopped and sat down on the curb of the sidewalk. Tate followed her lead and joined her. He watched her as she dug through her bag and pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

"That's another thing that sucks around here, everyone's fake," she informed him between puffs. Her eyes blankly staring forward.

Tate stared forward, thinking back on times where he had been harassed. The times back in middle school when the kids would call him a freak and the boys would call him a faggot and abuse him. Those days were behind him now though. He was able to stand up for himself one day, but he still cringed every time that he saw one of those jerks beating up on someone. It wasn't needed. "Don't let those high school assholes get to you. You're too good for that. You're better than them and you know it."

Violet took a puff of the cigarette and watched the smoke slowly leave her mouth. The calming sensation move throughout her body. "Still bothers me. That slut calling me out on my smoking while she leaves class every day to go snort coke in the bathroom," she replied and then looked to Tate. "What kind of bullshit is that?"

Tate watched her for a moment and sighed. This was against his better judgement, but he liked this girl and hated to see her get pushed around. "I have an idea," he stated, his lips beginning to form a small smile.

ooo

Emma Hartley sat at her desk. It was almost five in the afternoon as she sat there going through the poems that she had her classes do earlier that day. Most of them were pretty much the same, basic little poems, some cute while others were a little funny. Then, there were some that were intended for other people in the class.

Being a teacher and standing in the front of the room, she could look out and see who liked who. It was no big mystery. She could see people sneaking peeks at each other. She could overhear the gossip as she walked into the room or as she sat there at her desk. It was oddly amusing to her that they thought they could write love poems and think that she had no idea who they were actually about.

That was when she came across Tate's poem.

_Different_

_Las Angeles_

_The city that tends to be angel-less_

_Created and ran by empty, plastic clones_

_Causing the real people to feel ugly and alone. _

_I look at her, strong enough to resist society's ways_

_The only one free of the corruptive decay._

_She sticks out for all the right reasons_

_She sees everything wrong with the world_

_She hates the bullshit that people feed her _

_More people need to recognize her beauty_

_More people need to see it's okay _

_To be different_

_Tate Langdon_

Emma reread the poem a few times. It was definitely one of the ones that made more of a statement. She liked it, a little more than the others. Right away, she knew who it was about, the new girl, Violet, the one that she had to constantly try to keep him from talking to during class.

It was no secret that this boy was talented. He had the ability to create things, wonderful things. He just never trusted other people enough.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Sweet Release

"So, there's this girl," Tate started. He sat down on the stairs that led down to the basement. His head was lowered down with his elbows resting on his knees. The only light down there was of that coming from the opened door at the top of the staircase.

Right now, Constance and Larry were out, so he didn't need to worry about getting interrupted. That was very important right now.

"Go on," Nora gently urged him. She stood beside the staircase, resting her arm on the railing as she offered Tate a comforting look.

Tate smiled up to her. "I've only seen her a couple of times, but I know I like her. More than I've liked any other girl at school," he explained.

Nora chuckled. "Charles used to say things like that me," she mentioned, thinking back on the beginning of their marriage. She had always known that he was into the weird experiments, but never had she thought that they would become more important than her. Her smile then faded. "You haven't done anything stupid for her have you?" she curtly questioned.

Tate looked forward for a minute. "I told her that she could bring the girls over here that have been bullying her," he confessed. He turned his head to look and see her reaction. She didn't look happy, but she didn't seem to be mad at him either. "I told her that I could take care of them."

"I see," Nora responded. She was thinking it over in her head. The idea wasn't all that bad. There was just one thing though, one thing that she had to tell him. "You can do what ever you want in life," she started. Her eyes were locked on his, reminding him that she truly did care about him. "Just remember, sooner or later we all pay for our actions," she warned him, her voice turning cold and bitter as she thought back to her son.

"I don't have that much to lose," he flatly responded. "The only thing that really matters to me anymore is Violet. I could lose everything else, and I would fine with that."

Nora sighed. "What makes you so sure that you'll never lose her?"

Tate just sat there and shrugged. Looking down to his knees that shown through his ripped jeans, playing with the loose strings that came from the edges of the tears. "She's different," he answered, not really knowing another way to sum up his thoughts.

Nora scoffed at the young boy's naive view on love. "I was 'different' too at one time. And so was Charles and Thaddeus," she informed him, getting him to look back up to her. "When it comes to paying for your sins though, your feelings and their feelings don't mean anything."

Tate's eyes slightly widened. Now, he was nervous, but to him it didn't change anything. He was going to go through with his plans and he was going to make sure that they paid for hurting Violet. "I'm willing to take that chance for her," he announced, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Besides, I think I'm almost done paying for the last one," he explained, quickly losing the smile.

Nora shook her head. "You have so much to learn don't you? Do you seriously think any of us would be here right now if you ever finished paying for anything?" she questioned, trying to help this boy understand what was truly at risk.

"You may still be alive, but you are still in this house for a reason."

Tate quickly stood up and looked over the railing, back behind the steps. There stood a little girl, about six years old. Curly dark reddish hair, blue eyes, pale skin. She always looked like she was about to cry. She always carried her blue stuffed rabbit around with the pink bow around the neck, the stuffed animal that was now covered in the blood.

"We all know what you want to do here Tate, and we all know why," she stated as she walked closer to the two.

Nora smiled as she knelt down to the little girl. "Amelia, honey? Why don't you go off and play?" she sweetly suggested, knowing how uncomfortable Tate was around her.

Amelia looked from Nora up to Tate. "It's not fair," she pouted. "You used to like me too," she stated before obeying Nora and walking off into the surrounding darkness.

Tate stood there, gazing off into the direction that the little girl had walked. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. The images from that day kept running through his head.

(_Constance stood before a young Tate as he sat up on the counter. "Now, Tate," she curtly started, staring him directly in the eyes. "What happened here today will never be spoken of. Understood?" she sternly warned. _

_Tate nodded, not fully understanding anything that had just gone on around him. _

_Constance smiled. "Good," she responded._)

Tate slowly turned and needed back up the stairs, all the way up to his room. Closing the door behind him, he went over to his dresser and pulled out the top drawer. In a hurry to find what he needed, he carelessly tossed the clothes out and dug through his things.

Once his hand hit the box that he needed, he froze and then gingerly lifted the little black box out of the drawer. He carried it with him over to his desk and sat down, setting the box in the desk before him. As soon as he was in the chair, the top of the box was lifted and tossed off to the side.

Inside the box, there were a few razors. His eyes narrowed down on them. The sun sneaking into the room through the slits of the blinds was reflecting off of them, making them look somewhat glorious, as if this was truly what everyone needed to solve all of their problems.

There was only one true way to end everything though, and that was to end his own life. He had never actually attempted it, because he knew, that if he died in this house that he would have to constantly live with everything that he had done up until now. It wouldn't be his salvation, it would be his hell.

All he used the razors for now was a sweet momentary requiem to all the numbness that he had tried to force upon himself day after day. It allowed him to truly feel human and let himself know that his feelings are real and that they do exist. While in the process, releasing the pain from his body, feeling the wickedness and evil that overcomes him at times leave through the perfectly sliced skin, leaving with the bright red blood that gushed from the openings and dripped onto the floor.

He picked up the blade with his fingers as he carefully examined it. Then, without any hesitation watt so ever, he quickly threw his hand down and glided the razor across his wrist.

As the blood started to ooze from the brand new slit, he watched with disgust before leaning his head back over the back of the chair and letting out a small sigh of relief.

"If it means anything, I forgive you," Moira stated, appearing to him at the foot of his bed.

Tate turned around in his chair and looked to her, not knowing what to say to her.

"You were only following the actions of your mother. You didn't know any better," she flatly explained.

Moira felt bad every time that she saw him like this. He was feeling bad for something that he didn't even know he did. It was the same week that Constance had killed her husband and Moira. The young boy had seen her drag the bodies out, bury the one and grind the other into dog meat. She knew that he would be screwed up after that incident.

"Right," he said and then turned back.

ooo

Violet stood in her room, staring at her own reflection. There was something about that feeling that she had after having dinner with her pretend family. The feeling that there was no hope for things to get better around her. As of recently, she found that that feeling disappeared when ever she was with Tate.

Now though, he wasn't with her, so there was only one other thing that she could do that she knew would work. She looked down from her reflection in the mirror to her forearm. Slowly, she pulled up her sleeve, revealing the various scars that she had from the previous times that she had cut. Without any more hesitation, she carefully glided the blade against her soft skin and watched as the blood slowly seeped up from the fresh cut.

As soon as she was done, she tossed the razor back into her jewelry box and grabbed a tissue to dab at the blood, preventing a mess.

There were times where she had stepped back and asked herself why she did this. There were times where she thought that this was a stupid trick, but it worked. It took the pain that she was feeling and made it into a physical form, something that she could understand, something that she could control. It also released the anger that had built up within her, and calmed her.

Keeping the tissue in place on top of the cut, she walked over and sat down on her bed. Most things around her, were bad. She was losing any control that she had over her life and was watching as everything caved in around her. Her parents were fighting, she was being bullied, and she was yanked from a place that made her happy and forced to settle here. The only thing that she did like out here so far was Tate. He was about to be the boy that would solve all of her problems, and she knew it. Tomorrow, she was going to get Stephanie and Taylor over to his house, and they were somehow going to teach them a lesson. How? She didn't know yet.

Laying back and staring up at the ceiling, nothing seemed to matter anymore. Tate was going to help her to be a little less miserable at school now, so that there was one place that she didn't have to hate going to around here.

Her wrist started to itch, causing her to shift all of her attention to it. She lifted the tissue, having to peel off parts of it where the blood had begun to dry.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Darkness (part 1)

1983

_Tate sat and watched Amelia cry. They were up in his room, both sitting together on his bed. _

_"I don't think you should cry anymore," he stated. "Nora told me that being sad was a waste of time that could be spent enjoying yourself." _

_Amelia looked up to him and sniffled. "Are you mad at me for crying?" she questioned. _

_Tate nodded. "We could be out having fun right now," he told her. He them saw her look like she was about to cry even harder. "But I guess we could sit in here a little longer if you want to." _

_"Thank you," Amelia responded, trying to wipe the tears off her face. _

_"Why are you crying?" He decided that he might finally ask her. Since he had been going down to the basement lately and trying to meet the ghosts down there, he had been pretty oblivious to the events going on around here. _

_"My mommy died," she answered, hugging her stuffed bunny even tighter. She lowered her head, her curls covering her face. _

_Tate looked over to her with interest. "How did your mommy die?" he questioned. _

_"I don't know," she admitted, looking up to him._

ooo

Tate casually strolled into the classroom. It was even early, about ten minutes before the bell. He knew that Violet was out there some where, roaming the halls, looking for Stephanie and Taylor.

He couldn't be out there while she was doing that, he had to just sit back and wait patiently to hear from her about it.

He went ahead and took his normal seat in the back of the room. It was weird being here this early, there was no one else in the room, they were all still out in the halls, walking around and talking about trivial things amongst each other. The teacher wasn't even in the room yet.

It was better this way though, being alone. It allowed him the chance to think. Last night, that little girl, Amelia, had gotten to him. It was a long time ago, but still, it was something that he did that he shouldn't have done.

It was all over now, he told himself. There was no reason to keep thinking about it like he was.

Mrs. Hartley walked into the room and set her things down on her desk. She was surprised to see Tate there. "Good morning," she greeted.

"Morning," Tate absently replied. His eyes were glued to the door, his thoughts now focussed on what Violet was trying to accomplish out there in the hallway.

Mrs. Hartley looked over to the door and then back to Tate. "Actually, I'm glad that you're here. I wanted to talk to you about the poem that you wrote," she mentioned, hoping that he might have been listening.

Tate looked over to her. Great, another teacher to tell him how concerned she was because she found him writing about something that bothered him. "What?" he sighed.

Mrs. Hartley slightly laughed. "I was just about to tell you how much I liked it, and that with the talent and effort shown here, I think you could put a little more effort into the rest of the work that you do for this class," she explained.

"Thanks," he responded, slightly beginning to smile. He then focussed his attention back to the door, waiting for Violet to walk in and tell him that it worked.

He wasn't watching the door for long when the first bell rang and Violet rushed right into the room, a her hand shoved into her pocket holding a folded note for him. She quickly took her hand out and swiftly handed him the note as she passed him to her desk.

There was a smile on her face, telling him that she had accomplished what was to be done for tonight. She got Stephanie and Taylor to agree to come over to his house.

Even though he already knew what the answer was, he opened the note and read it. Two boldly scribbled words: IT WORKED. He looked up and smugly smiled to Violet as she watched him read the note form the corner of her eyes. "Good," he said.

Violet had gone up to the two out in the hall and told them that she had drugs hidden down in the basement, more specifically, cocaine. She promise that she could get it to them for cheaper than usual and that it was legit.

Last night, after talking to Nora, Tate had talked to Thaddeus and a few of the others to work on a plan. What would happen tonight though, he knew that he could never be completely sure whether or not this would work. One of them could back out or they could make their own plans. That was the problem with the current house that he was living in, nothing was ever predictable.

ooo

Later that day, Tate had snuck out of school early and headed home so that he could be there when Violet brought the two girls. He had to make sure that everyone was still in agreement with the plans.

Violet walked down the sidewalk with the two girls following her, waiting to finally get to her house.

"This is seriously where you live?" Stephanie implored, recognizing the neighborhood. She knew that this place was mostly for those with money. Now, for some reason, she liked Violet just a little bit more, that and the drugs helped quite a bit.

"I didn't know anything was for sale over here," Taylor mentioned.

Violet just quietly lead them. Right now, she was too busy trying to figure out what Tate had up his sleeves to talk to them. Also, she really didn't care what they thought, just as long as they followed her and then stopped bothering her at school.

"Here it is," Violet announced as they stopped before Tate's house.

Stephanie and Taylor froze, gawking up at the house. "That's not your house," Taylor stated. "That's that creepy boy's house."

"Yeah," Stephanie replied and then looked to Violet with suspicion. "What the hell are you doing coming over here? Haven't you heard about this kid? You stay the fuck away from him."

If it were anyone else, Violet might have been interested in what she had to say, but right now she was just concerned about getting them into the house and down to the basement.

"Come on, I just keep my stuff here. His parents don't care and mine do, so it was safer to keep the stuff here. You don't even have to stop and talk to him, just head right down into the basement," Violet informed them.

Taylor looked to Stephanie and shrugged. "I guess it couldn't hurt, I mean we still get the stuff and it's pretty cheap," she reasoned, hoping that Stephanie would agree with her.

Stephanie sighed. She really did hate the idea of going into that house, but she was in a group and it would only be for a minute. "All right," she sighed, defeated. "Just hurry up. None of that taking your time shit," she warned, crossing her arms.

Violet smiled to her. "Follow me," she instructed as she started walking around the back door.

They entered the eerily quiet home and cut throughout the kitchen on the way to the basement stairs.

"I don't like this anymore," Stephanie complained as they carefully made their way down the stairs.

"Shut up," Taylor snapped. She too was scared and didn't need to be hearing about someone else fearing this place.

Violet rolled her eyes. "Do you what it or not?" she questioned as she reached the floor.

"Yeah," Taylor huffed, getting annoyed.

"Than come on," Violet urged them, leading them into the back part of the basement. They got to the doorway and stopped. "Right in here," she stated, doing as she had earlier been told to.

Stephanie and Taylor stepped into the room and saw Tate standing there, leaning against the wall. He was looking down, wearing his crooked smile as he traced his finger down a crack on the wall.

"I thought you said that we wouldn't have to talk to him," Taylor complained as she turned and glared to Violet.

"Are ya gonna be a bitch? Or are you going to go ahead and grab your drugs and go?" Violet calmly inquired. She thought it was a nice touch having him there in the room just to bother them.

Taylor sighed with exasperation as she rolled her eyes and turned back to face forward. As soon as she did though, the lights went off and the room went pitch black.

"Hey!" Stephanie yelled. "Cut the crap and give us what we came here for already!"

Tate laughed. "Oh, you're getting what you came here for," he stated.

The lights went back on and Infantata ran as fast as his little legs could carry him through the room and towards the girls.

Stephanie shrieked while she turned and started for the stairs, with Violet following her.

Taylor tried to run to catch up to them, but the disfigured baby's claw reached out and clamped onto her leg. His nails piercing through her skin. "Stephanie!" The blood curdling scream rang throughout the entire house.

Taylor was dragged across the floor, with Tate standing there just watching her. His grin dark and full of malice while his eyes stayed glued to her. He could hear her cries, and see the blood gushing, but he found an odd satisfaction in it. Some sort of gratitude that he could not find anywhere else.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Darkness (part 2)

"What the fuck was that?" Stephanie harshly cried. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as her entire body trembled.

"How the hell should I know?" Violet yelled back to her. They were both pacing around the kitchen, panicking as they tried to comprehend what had just happened.

Stephanie stopped and looked to her, with her tear stained face, eyes full of fear and anger. "You're the one that brought us here!" she stated. "You brought us here and lead us right to him and then you tell me that you have no idea what just happened down there!?" she nearly screeched. "How stupid and naive do you think I am? Now tell me the truth before I call the cops over here!" she hysterically demanded.

"I told you the truth!" Violet argued. "I swear I have no idea what happened down there! I was supposed to bring you here so that we could scare you," she admitted. "But I have no idea what the hell that thing was down there. All I know about it, is that it's not human."

Stephanie rolled her eyes. This was all too much right now, and the last thing she needed was someone lying to her about it now. "You're a bitch, you know that?" she questioned. "Some elaborate prank you have here, but also very fucked up. Now please, just, just go down there and get Taylor so that we can go and never come back," she ordered.

"Fine," Violet sighed. She got to the staircase and started heading down, but froze at the sight before her. "Taylor?" she called, starting to get worked up again. The young girl lay lifeless on the ground in a puddle of her own blood. There were bite marks and scratches on her face, neck, arms, and legs. Her eyes were left wide open with her mouth hanging agape.

"Taylor!" Violet yelled as she sprinted down to the bottom of the steps. She knelt down beside her, just looking over the body. "Taylor," she whispered to herself.

"You know, yelling at her isn't going to wake her up at this point," Tate nonchalantly mentioned as he came up behind her.

Violet quickly turned back and looked to him. The very instant she had heard his voice, something snapped inside of her. The boy that she liked had murdered someone. Now, this was one of the rare times in her life in which she was actually scared. She scurried to her feet. "What is wrong with you?" she implored with tears in her eyes.

"I didn't do this!" Tate yelled. He might have had the smile on his face while he watched, but he honestly had not touched the girl, nor had he told anyone to kill. One could argue though that he did know the nature of the house.

Violet shook her head in disbelief. "You killed her Tate," she stated, gritting her teeth. "Do you understand what you've done?" she yelled. She hadn't noticed, but she had been gradually backing away from him from the moment she got back on her feet.

"I'm telling you I didn't do it! Did you even see me?" he questioned, tears of frustration forming in his eyes.

Violet huffed and turned to run up the stairs. "I'm getting out of here!" she yelled, signaling to him not to try and catch her.

"You deal with him. I'm done," she spat as she passed Stephanie in the kitchen.

oooo

Violet went straight to her room. The first thing to catch her eyes was the picture that Tate had drawn for her. It stopped her dead in her tracks. As much as she wanted to rip it off the wall and tear it apart, she couldn't. It was still special to her, it still meant something to her.

At the same time though, it showed her how much she had miss judged someone. This boy, the one that she thought had the realistic view of the world and had a sensitive side to him, was a killer. He was dangerous.

She sniffled as she used her sleeve to harshly wipe the tears from her face. There was no winning here. No matter whose fault it was, she was the one that got hurt. She thought that she had finally found a friend and she was lead on to believe that she might enjoy something out here, that she could be happy, but it was all a lie. A phony, screwed up lie.

Her shoulders dropped in despair as she went and laid down on her bed. Her small bit of happiness here was all gone.

From where she lay in her bed, she could see out the window. She could see the birds flying. It was now that she had a true understanding of what Tate had told her earlier about birds and how he envied them. They were able to just fly away and never coem back if they didn't want to. She thought that she understood what he was saying, but she was actually wrong.

At that point in time, she hadn't known what it had felt like to truly feel the need to run away. She had no idea what it felt like to know that you had nothing here for you, that there was an entire world out there, and here you were basically all alone with nothing to look forward to. Now, she wanted nothing more than to just run away and never look back.

oooo

Tate slammed the door to his bedroom. All he wanted to do was help the girl he liked. Now, she was gone. Obviously, this hadn't worked out as he had planned.

There was one thing that he could resort to at the moment. With the new idea stuck in his head, he stormed over to his dresser and retrieved the blade that he had just recently used.

There was no hesitation as he threw down the blade and gnashed it into his wrist. It wasn't just once this time. Multiple cuts in each wrist, releasing the pain and frustration.

"You're gonna hurt yourself if you keep doing that."

Tate quickly wheeled around and glared to Addy as she stood there in the doorway. "Not now Addy!" he sternly warned.

"But I don't want you stuck here too!" Addy argued. She truly was afraid of him ending up here as a ghost. She knew that this house held a lot of death in it, and she didn't want her brother mixed in with it.

Tate took a second and sighed, calming himself down. "I won't. Okay?" he asked, mostly just to get her to leave.

"Fine," she replied and then left. She didn't believe him, but there was nothing that she could do. It wasn't like he ever listened to her anyways.

Tate turned back to the dresser and slammed his fist down as hard as he could. As far as he could see it, there was no fixing this anytime soon. He had to show her that there were spirits in the house, people that would murder. He had to prove to her that he didn't do it.

The only way to do that though would be to get her back into the house. After what just happened, the odds of that happening were very low.

oooo

Down in the basement, Amelia sat crouched down behind the stairs. She watched as Moira took care of the remains from earlier. The body had been taken out already. The only thing left now was the blood and bits of flesh that were carelessly forgotten.

"Are you even aware of what's you've done?" Moira implored, as she knelt down over the stain, scrubbing away at it.

"Yes mommy," Amelia softly answered. Her voice sounding so sweet, so innocent, quite unfitting to the isn that she had just committed. She hugged her bunny closer to her chest as her eyes followed the blood stained sponge.

Moira sighed as she got to her feet. "Why did you do it?" she questioned. She understood that there were spirits here who were out to hurt everyone, and that this little girl was with them all the time. She was so innocent at one time though, it was nice having her little girl with her, still sweet and still cute. Now, she was starting to turn into a monster before her eyes.

"Tate doesn't deserve to be happy," she sheepishly explained. There was a slight darkness behind those eyes.

"That's not for you to decide," Moira told her.

"It wasn't up to him to decide when I died either," Amelia stated.

Moira just nodded and grabbed the bucket of soapy water to take upstairs. She knew that Amelia had a point, but the fact that she was becoming just as bad as the others bothered her. Just because there were killers here, didn't mean that she had to scoot down to their level.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Innocence

1983

Constance lay on the couch, passed out. An empty bottle on the coffee table and an empty glass, loosely resting in her hand. Newhart on the television as Tate played with his toy truck. This was a normal occurrence to him. The only thing different was the blood that was on his mother's dress. He didn't really question it though. It was bad to wake mommy up when she was drinking.

He just went on playing with his toy. The only other thing in the house to make any noise was the television. Somehow, that made him more comfortable. It was when the place was silent that he would get scared. Those were the times that he would think of the bad stuff here.

Nora had told him that there was really nothing to worry about. She had taught him to just tell them to go away. Now, he was constantly doing that. It seemed like it was happening more and more lately, as if the ghosts here were becoming more and more comfortable with him.

"Be careful, you might wake her!" Amelia harshly whispered. She was standing out in the hallway as she poked her head into the living room. "You don't want her to get mad at you like she did my mommy!" the little girl warned. There was a certain amount of fear in her eyes.

Tate quizzically looked up to her. "She's drinking, she won't hear anything unless we yell," he explained.

Amelia looked over to the couch and then motioned for Tate to come join her. He obliged. "Did you know that she killed my mommy?" she implored.

Tate just nodded. He had seen her dispose of the body. He didn't truly understand what he had just witnessed, but he knew that Constance told him to never speak of it again. Ever. It couldn't have been too bad though, he still saw Moira everyday. He still talked to her. Yes, it looked painful when he saw the eyes shot out, but other than that, he didn't understand the true consequences.

"I don't want her to kill you too. Cus' now my mommy can never ever leave here," Amelia informed him.

"I don't think she will. She tells me that I'm her perfect one," Tate responded. That was one title that he never the irony of until he was much older. "You wanna play with me upstairs? It'll be further away from my mommy," he suggested.

"Okay!"

Tate grabbed Amelia's hand and lead her as they ran up the stairs together. They went up to Constance's room. They would go up there from time to time and snoop around. There always seemed to be something interesting in there.

"Look!" Amelia squealed as she found a pearl necklace on the dresser.

Tate smiled to her and then went ahead to open up the drawer. There was nothing unusual at first. It was just a sock drawer. He had a feeling though. There had to be something in there worth finding. That was when he came across it. It was shiny, it was silver, it was small, and little did he know, it was loaded. "Here's the weapon she used," he announced, holding it up.

Amelia nervously looked over. "I would put that away if I were you," she cautioned him. Without realizing it, she had backed away from him.

"Don't worry about it," Tate laughed as he studied the gun. It interested him. It felt, right, in his hands. The first hint of the thrill that he had ever received from murder. Without even really registering what he was doing, he pointed the gun to Amelia.

"Tate!" Moira yelled from the doorway.

It was too late though, he pulled the trigger. The blood splattering as Amelia fell back and hit the floor. Her tiny little body slowly soaking in her own blood.

Tate just stood there, staring. Feeling nothing.

Ooo

1994

Constance closed the door and lowered her head, her hand still holding onto the knob. "I know why you did it!" she called out. Slowly, she lifted her head and looked around the room. "Still too good to show yourself to me? Where was that shyness when Hugo was around?"

Moira stepped out of the kitchen and stood there, staring to her. "Madam?" she questioned.

Constance looked to her with disgust. "Don't madam me you tramp. Just tell me why you did it," she ordered.

"I didn't do it. I promise you," Moria assured her. "Amelia did this time."

Constance raised an eyebrow to her. This was certainly interesting to hear. "Throwing your daughter under the bus?" she asked. "Surely even you couldn't sink that low," she stated and then started for the living room.

Moira just stood there. It was those very words that hit her. If she wouldn't have had Amelia staying there with her, she would have lived. She would be in high school right now. Instead, she decided to keep her there. The one mistake that she would always have to deal with and face.

ooo

Violet trudged her way down the hall to her first period class. This morning, she just didn't care as much.

It was strange though. Stephanie had a big mouth, and she was one of the more popular kids, yet, no one asked Violet about what happened. There were no weird stares in the hall. No one even seemed to act any differently around her. Maybe she explained to them it was all Tate? No, there would still be questions.

Before she entered the classroom, she spotted Stephanie sitting by herself. She looked worn and tired. Sunglasses and a big floppy hat. She was smoking, something that she had been against a few days ago. Whatever it was that was down in that basement, it had changed her. Whether or not it was for the better, they were about to find out.

Violet watched her for a moment before heading into the room. This morning, she had contemplated skipping, but she had to be there for a quiz. Besides, there were plenty of seats there, she didn't have to sit by Tate, if he even bothered to show up. There was no real reason for him to come anymore, she knew that.

Upon entering the room, her eyes went directly to the empty seats in the back. She let out a small sigh of relief. He wasn't here, waiting for her. Something that she found slightly concerning though, she was a little disappointed he wasn't there. Not the murderer, but the boy that she had been talking to. Although she didn't know him all that well, she felt like a huge part of her life out here had been taken away from her.

"Where's the morbid kid this morning?"

Violet sat down and noticed the girl in front of her turned around and waiting for an answer. She didn't even know this girl's name. How did she know that her and Tate liked each other?

"I'm not his keeper," Violet replied.

The girl laughed to her. "You mean to tell me that I see you two together all the time and then suddenly you hate him?" she asked, almost condescendingly.

Why did she care? Violet was about to call her out on her nosiness, but the boy next to the annoying girl leaned over and grabbed her shoulder.

"Jacky! Stop! She probably found out," he explained to her. And that was all it took. Jacky turned back around and they both left Violet alone.

Violet's eyes suddenly widened. Her curiosity was sparked. "What did I find out?" she cautiously implored.

The boy turned back to her, looking as if she had to be kidding. "You really don't know?" he inquired. It was pretty much assumed, that if you knew Tate, you knew the rumors that were about him.

Violet shook her head. "I just got here," she impatiently reminded him. If it had anything to do with what happened with Taylor, she wanted to know.

The bell rang. "All right everyone!" Mrs. Hartley began as she stood up from her desk. "Everything cleared off your desk except for a pen. No talking."

The boy just turned back to face forward. Violet sighed. What could have possibly happened around here that people wouldn't want to tell her about? Knowing how most people were around here, it had to be something about a designer this or that getting ruined. That was only what she told herself though. There was a hint of fear in Jacky's eyes when he suggested that she had found out. There had to be something deeply wrong with Tate. Maybe, it was better that she left him when she did.

Ooo

Tate sat up in the attic, blankly staring towards the ground. He had to do something to get Violet's affection back. He had to show her that he didn't murder Taylor. It was the house.

It sounded crazy though. The house did it. Who would ever believe that?

"It's hopeless. I would just try and forget about this girl. All she's doing is causing you problems."

Tate looked over to the opening to the attic and saw Charles standing there. "Shouldn't you be cutting something up or something like that?" he sneered. He needed to be alone right now. He also didn't need anyone telling him to just forget about Violet. There was no way that he could possibly ever, just forget about her. This was someone that he actually had some feelings for, he couldn't just let her go.

He could let her go. Not this time though. This time she left because she thought she saw something that didn't happen. She didn't see the true events before her. If she would have told him though that she was happier without him, he would leave her in a heartbeat. He wanted her to be happy. She deserved it.

Charles caught onto the hint and nodded. "Take it from me. Once a woman thinks you're insane, they'll always think that way. Nora still blames me for everything that happened," he told him.

"At least she talks to you," Tate replied. "Violet probably won't even look at me now."

"That's only because she knows she's partly to blame. Besides, when you're stuck in the same house with someone all this time, you decide that its pretty hard to hold a grudge," he explained.

"It's not all that hard to hold one," Amelia stated as she appeared in the corner. She always followed him, whether he knew it or not.

"I didn't know what I was doing!" he yelled defensively.

"Doesn't mean that what happened is okay," she argued. "That's why I punished you," she confessed.

Tate scrambled to his feet. "What are you talking about?" he desperately questioned.

"I was the one that killed Taylor. You knew that," she innocently answered.

Tate just stared to her. It was her fault that Violet was mad at him. Without hesitation, he started quickly for the door. He had to get out of there. He had to get away from Amelia, and he had to go talk to Violet.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Slipping Away

Violet sat on the swing on the porch of her house. A cigarette in her hand as she stared out to the neighborhood. The evening sun casting long shadows into the almost empty street.

As she took a puff, she considered the idea that her parents were watching her. It was also obvious that they were talking about her. If they weren't, one of them would have come out there already and taken the cigarette. It didn't matter though. It just didn't matter.

Ooo

"Ben, I'm worried about her," Vivien said as she leaned back against the counter.

"I know, so am I," Ben replied as he sat at the table. He was looking over a few notes he had jotted down. Someone had just called him to talk to their son.

"You think you could try talking to her?" Vivien desperately requested. She had tried talking to her earlier that day and got no where.

Ben sighed as he looked up to her. "I did. She shrugged me off last night," he explained. He could see the concern in his wife's eyes as she crossed her arms and looked towards the ground. "Trust me on this Viv. She's going to talk when she's ready. Until then, forcing her isn't going to do anything. She's not in any real danger. As a matter of fact, she's pretty much just doing what she did back in Boston, sneak off, smoke, read and isolate herself in her room. She's just doing more of it now. She's still eating and she's still doing good in school."

Vivien took some comfort in his words. "I guess," she replied. It was hard though. She wanted Violet to be able to enjoy herself more. She wanted her to have friends. At the same time, she loved the way that Violet didn't care what others thought. Other people's opinions never meant anything to her. In a way, she was one of the most free people she knew. She was also strong, fearless, and independent.

Those were the things that scared her about Violet too. She had never seen Violet go off the deep end, but she was sure that there were times that she could. Sure, people never hurt her, but she did manage to get into a lot of fights. She was stubborn. And little did she know that her words could hurt. When all of that was going on, those were the times that she would spend the most time in her room. Those were the times that she would forget to come down to dinner.

Ooo

The street lights started turning on as Tate walked down the street. Violet had told him where she lived, he just had to remember. He knew the area, and once he saw the street sign that he would know it.

That was when he spotted it. Orange Grove Blvd. A smile touched his face as he turned the corner. He quickened his pace down the road. Now, he just had to figure out which house. She had described it to him, so it shouldn't be too hard.

Only a few houses down, and he spotted Violet sitting out on the porch. For some reason, all the courage that he had gathered within the last few moments was gone. His steps were now full of hesitance, still moving only because he knew that he needed her.

Violet spotted him. Her eyes narrowed on him. This boy was the last thing she wanted to see coming towards her. She didn't say anything. Instead, she just sat there, waiting for him. Whatever he had to say, she might as well just let him say it and leave. "What?" she venomously spat as he stepped onto the porch.

"I have to talk to you Violet," he desperately pleaded.

Violet tossed her cigarette to the ground and stepped on it. "Okay," she coldly responded.

"You have to believe me Violet, I didn't kill her. I promise you, I didn't. There was someone else in that basement. I didn't know that they would kill her, but they did," Tate explained. He saw the look of suspicion. "I can prove it to you if you let me show you."

Violet raised an eyebrow to him. "You expect me to go with you so that you can show me this killer? How stupid do you think I am?"

"I won't let her kill you Violet. I promise you," he stated.

Violet looked up to his eyes. The eyes that used to seem innocent. He was hurt, and he was desperate. That didn't matter to her though. "Face it Tate, the only reason that you're not in jail right now is because Stephanie was too messed up to call the cops and because I didn't want to be arrested along with you for being apart of your little game," she informed him. "You got away with murder. Why can't you just be satisfied with that and let it go?"

"Because I'm not the one who got away with anything!" Tate forcefully answered. Violet rolled her eyes as she stood up and paced over to the side of the porch. His eyes stayed glued to her as she turned her back to him. "How many times do I have to tell you?" he nearly cried.

Violet looked down as she started playing with end of her sleeve. She shook her head as she shrugged.

Tate sighed, lowering his head in defeat. "Fine," he softly replied. "I care about your happiness. So if you're truly happier without me, I'll leave you alone," he informed her, taking one last look of her before turning and leaving.

Violet just stood there, blankly staring towards the ground. She wasn't happier without him. She wasn't happy with the person that he turned out to be though either.

Oooo

Tate decided to go to school that day. Anything just to see Violet. Even if he couldn't talk to her, he had to see her. Just that glimpse of her in first period and then back home. That was all he needed.

The bell had already rung before he stepped into the classroom. He walked in and stopped to scan the room for a seat. That was when it hit him, the bittersweet realization that the only seat left in the room was the one next to Violet.

"Come on Tate, take your seat. We have a lot to get through this morning," Mrs. Hartley instructed.

Tate sighed. He couldn't just walk out now. He had to see if he could handle it. As he walked towards the desk, he could see Violet going out of her way to avoid looking to him. It didn't hurt him. As he sat down he watched her, jotting things down in her notebook as the teacher spoke. He took out his notebook too. There was no drawing today. There was something different, and Violet noticed.

The young girl's eyes would wander over to his paper every once in a while. She wasn't trying to read the words, but was wondering what changed in him. She could redundantly tell herself that she didn't care, but her own words weren't very convincing. This wasn't the same boy that she met her first day of school. He looked as if he didn't even care anymore. There was no artwork, and it bothered her.

"Tate Langdon," Mrs. Hartley called.

Tate's eyes shot up from his notebook and stared to her. "Your poem," she informed him, holding up the paper. "Would you like to come get it?" she asked, smiling.

Tate got up and went to get it from her.

"You happen to be be very talented," she mentioned as she handed it over to him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, quickly making his way back to his desk.

Violet put her's away in her folder. Her eyes though, went up to watch as Tate came back down the aisle.

As it was nearing the end of class, Tate tore the paper out of his notebook and folded it up, with the poem inside of it. Violet curiously watched out of the corner of her eye. Her gut feeling told her that those papers were going to her, but part of her wanted to say no. She didn't care to read what ever he could have written for her. He was a murderer.

As the bell rang, Tate quickly tossed the papers onto Violet's desk. Her eyes glued to the note as he rushed out of the room. She glanced up to him as he walked out the door before gingerly grabbing the note and placing it in her folder.

To read it though, she had to find a place where she would be alone. Outside. She knew that she wouldn't be able to handle reading it in front of everyone else.

She headed out and ran around to the back of the building where she leaned against the wall as she double checked to make sure that she was alone. Upon her reassurance, she took the note out of her folder and unfolded it. The first thing she saw was the poem that he had written. Her eyes widening. It was beautiful. He was calling her the only real person in a crowd of fake clones. That was truly the nicest thing that anyone had ever said to her.

Next, was the letter:

_Violet, I know that you still believe that I am the murderer. I guess I really can't blame you for that. I know it must look odd, seeing me down there and then finding out that Taylor was dead. I can live with you thinking that I was the one who killed her. _

_I can also live with you wanting nothing to do with me. Like I said yesterday, if you truly are happier __without me, I will stay away from you. _

_There is one thing I want you to understand. I would never do anything to hurt you. Even if I would have killed Taylor, I would never even think of doing the same to you. _

Violet sighed as she looked up from the letter. Maybe, she should go talk to him. Yes, she was still upset with him, but she had known that he wouldn't hurt her. She wasn't afraid of him.

Oooo

Tate stood in his bedroom, taking a second to stare down at his bed. He finally knelt down and reached under his bed, pulling out a long box. The box was placed on the bed before him, his eyes tracing the outline as he grasped the top to open it. Once the lid was off, he grinned down at the sigh before him. His gun.

"You gonna do to the girl what you did to me?" Amelia implored. She jumped up on the bed and sat down behind the box.

"No, Violet doesn't deserve that. It's everyone else," he explained to her.

Amelia smirked. "I think she does deserve it. After all, she was the one that gave you happiness and then pulled it away," she stated with innocence. "Would you be this miserable now if she hadn't done that?"

Tate frowned as he glared up to her. "Get out of here you little brat!" he angrily warned.

Amelia's lip quivered as the tears started forming. "You used to love me," she whimpered, hanging her head as she climbed off the bed. "I didn't deserve to die either."

Tate watched her, the guilt growing inside of him. He ignored it though, turning his attention back to the gun.


End file.
